Sick of Me

The tour had finished with a bang and before I knew it we were back home. It was tough at first, because I found plans I had made for the baby's room in my office and I basically freaked out. I had ended up in a heap on the floor of my office, bawling my eyes out, unable to control myself. Billie Joe had to spend nearly an hour calming me down, which I've dubbed to be one of the weakest moments of my life. It was difficult coping now because I couldn't avoid it; I was finding little reminders all over the house, so at one point I had to go through the entire house and purge it.

Of course, Billie didn't have any idea as to how to help me deal. Sure, he was suffering the loss too, but he told me that he could never imagine what I was going through. I think his empathy helped though, especially when we just took the time to grieve during the tour. My friends, as well as Ollie, were a great help too, one of which was a woman I worked with at RPM. She had been through several miscarriages before finally having a child. It was really helpful to be able to talk to someone I could relate to, and I was on the road to healing.

Our summer was now in full swing. The kids spent their days outside swimming and playing with friends, and stayed up as late as they could at night. Billie Joe and the guys were recording an album, and I was spending my time working from home and at RPM. It was really nice to be able to spend time with my family without drama or tension between myself and Billie Joe.

"Grace, if I bought a shit ton of red duct tape, do you think you could figure out how to make me a suit?" Billie Joe and I were sitting out on the patio on a Wednesday afternoon while Rita and Andy swam, and Jack was playing in the sprinklers.

"Like a suit, suit?" I stared at him, curious as to why he would want one.

"Yeah. The guys and I kinda have some plans."

"Why don't you just cover a suit in duct tape?"

Billie looked at me for a second before it clicked.

"Ohh. You're a genius, Gray!"

"I try." I sent him a smile before calling the kids out of the pool to reapply their sun screen. My kids were tan enough as it is, they didn't need to burn.

---

The end of summer drew near and the guys had finished up the initial recording of their album. They were over the moon about the record and it was all that they talked about, but one day in the middle of August, Billie came home completely distraught. Luckily the kids were spending the day with my dad, so they didn't have to see him like this.

He barely made it through the front door before the tears started flowing and sobs racked his small frame.

"Billie Joe, what happened?" I pulled him into my arms and led him to the living room, making him sit on the couch with me. I leaned back against the arm of the sofa, letting him lean on my chest and cry. I rubbed his back with one hand while the other ran through his hair, trying to comfort him any way I could.

"It's all gone. All of my hard work, stolen from me." His voice cracked as he sputtered out broken sentences.

"Oh, Billie." I wiped away his tears with my thumbs after a few moments and he sat up a little.

"My record.. The guys and my record. The master copies were stolen. Grace…" Billie stared at me, tears filling his green eyes, and asked if this is how I felt when I lost the baby. At first I was upset with him, but then I thought about it. He was right. He had put so much hard work, passion, and love into the music he made, and to finish a record only to have it ripped away from him? All of his records are like his children, in a way.

"Yeah, Billie Joe… I'm so sorry you have to go through this."

Billie got up from the couch carefully, heading into the kitchen and returning with a bottle of Jack Daniel's he had stashed in the back of the pantry. I didn't say anything about him drinking at two in the afternoon; he needed to take the edge off.

"Is there anything I can do?"

Billie shook his head, saying all he could do now is try and forget. He pulled a lighter out of his back pocket along with a small plastic baggie and I told him to go outside if he was going to get high. He looked at me sadly, all of the pain clearly written across his tired, tear streaked face, and nodded before kissing my cheek and going outside.

---

A few weeks went by and Billie Joe still wasn't healing from the loss of the masters, no matter how much anybody tried to help him. He was in a constant state of inebriation and was smoking anything he could every chance he got. At this stage I was surprised that he wasn't seeking out harder substances. He was careful about it around the kids though, always drinking liquor from a coffee mug and either stepping outside to smoke or going over to Tre's or Mike's. His cigarette habit picked up a bit too, and I had started to hide them from him. I was sick of him trying to smoke a pack a day, as if he was trying to give himself lung cancer.

"God damn it, Grace. Where are they?!" Billie glowered at me with a look on his face that made me uneasy. He had me cornered in the bathroom as I was taking my hair from the ponytail it had been in earlier.

"You're drunk!" I knew the kids were down stairs eating lunch, so I kept my voice down as best I could.

"So? Where the fuck are my cigarettes? I need them."

I stared him down, saying that I didn't know.

"You're such a fucking bitch, you know that right?" The way he hissed those words made me feel sick to my stomach; this wasn't my Billie Joe. We had been making so much progress and it was all going down the drain.

"You're gonna regret that when you're sober, Billie. I don't want you here when I get back." I pushed past him roughly and headed down to the kitchen, telling the kids to finish eating so we could go to their grandma's. Picking up the phone, I called Tre and told him that he needed to come and get Billie Joe. If i couldn't help him right now, maybe his friends could.

When we were at Ollie's, Billie had called me I don't know how many times. I ignored every single one of his calls though, knowing that he was still fucked up.

While Jack and Rita helped Ollie with whatever she was doing, I stepped out into the back yard and lit a cigarette from one of the packs I had taken from Billie. I watched the cancer stick burn slightly and my phone began to ring from my pocket. I sighed, pulling it out only to see that it was Tre.

"Hello?"

"He's tearing the place apart, Grace… Mike and I are doing our best, but he's freaking out."

I dropped the cigarette I had been staring at and crushed it beneath my shoe before saying I would be there in a few minutes.

After asking Ollie if she could watch the kids, I broke a few speed limits to get home and find out what was going on. I expected there to mass hysteria. I expected cops, neighbors, the whole nine yards. But when I got into the house, it was all too quiet.

Upon surveying the interior of the house, I discovered that my office, our bedroom, and bathroom had been turned upside down, but the kids' rooms were left untouched. I found the guys in the basement and I noticed a smashed Rickenbacker guitar on the floor near the piano.

"He shut himself in the sound booth. I'm sorry we couldn't get more control over him." Mike looked at me sadly and I sighed, saying that it wasn't his fault.

I looked through the plexiglass and saw Billie sitting on the floor with his head in his hands, shaking slightly. I couldn't tell if he was crying or having a panic attack or what, but I was scared none the less. I looked to Mike and Tre and the shrugged, not knowing what to do either.

"Should we leave him in there or should I talk to him?"

Tre shook his head at me and Mike agreed with him.

"He was saying a lot of things earlier and I don't think you should be anywhere near Billie right now." Mike's words shocked me for some reason. I guess Billie was more messed up than I thought.

I was peeking in the window as Billie's head shot up and his eyes briefly met mine. His face had gone from tired to pissed off in a matter of milliseconds as he gave me the finger and clearly mouthed, "Fuck you" at me.

I sent him a mix of a glare and a look of disappointment before saying that one of the guys needed to take him home with them.

"Grace.." Mike seemed to empathize with me, but I could tell he didn't like my idea.

"He can't be like this with the kids. I'm not making them stay somewhere else because Billie is being a fucking idiot."

Tre said that he could take Billie, but only after he sobered up, and I thanked him.

"He has so much pent up anger and frustration. I hid his cigarettes and he was so drunk earlier… I was just sick of him practically trying to give himself cancer."

"Don't make excuses for him, Gracie." Tre assured me that I was right to be mad at him.

"I don't know what else to do. I try to help him, but he pushes me away. He always has, even when he dealt with his dad's death." I sat on the sofa, heaving a sigh.

"I just have no clue anymore, you guys. I love him so fucking much, but it feels like a part of me wants to give up."

Tre sat to my left, pulling me into a hug as Mike watched Billie closely.

"Don't ever say that. You know that if you split up or anything happens to you, Billie wouldn't hesitate to do something to himself."

Billie Joe had told me that before, but it isn't really hit me as hard as it had when Tre said it now.

"Well if counseling doesn't help and we can't fix it on our own, I just don't know what else I can do."

"It's not just you, it's him too." Tre was right. Billie Joe needed to get his act together. I wasn't helping by letting it slide.

"Tre, would it be okay if Billie stayed with you for a while? He's really unstable and I don't think Jack and Rita Mae should see him like this." Tre nodded and I sent him an appreciative smile as I thanked him quietly.

"Now we just have to wait for him to sober up." Mike shook his head, the concern for his best friend all over his face.